Don't Say a Word

by A. L. Bird

  Dan is beyond nods now. He’s doing teary eyes, and so am I, for fuck’s sake. Look at me – I’m in this restaurant. It’s a happy fucking ending.

  ‘And then, of course, they’d find you. Or they’d think they’d found you. By day four or five, when I was done with the delights of freedom, I found them. I went to the bus depot. “You always go to the bus depot,” they said, when they came to collect me after a sighting. “What’s so good about that? Why’s it better than a nice warm bed?” I shrugged and pretended to be sad. But it meant I was safe(ish) again. And that I wouldn’t go back to the same foster home again. Just back to the children’s home, for the same old shit, until the next time. It wasn’t like being cosy-cosy back at home with your mum; it was a stopgap. A roof.’

  Dan is looking deep into my eyes. Is he trying to find me now? Shall I make myself easy to catch?

  ‘But you made it out of that,’ he says. ‘That makes you amazing.’

  I shrug. ‘It makes me lucky.’

  ‘No, I mean it. Tell me, how did you do it?’

  I pull my hands away.

  ‘We’ve not even had the starter, Dan, and you’re into my whole life history. I thought these were meant to be your secrets.’

  He sits back, blinks a bit. ‘Right,’ he says.

  I wonder if he now thinks I was on the game – that that’s why I don’t want to go on. Truth is, I need to de-conflict the legacy with the reality. Can I share an emotional truth – life with an anonymized Mick?

  Mick.

  I look at my watch: 7.30.

  The M. Hardy reservation.

  Any moment now, he could walk in the door.

  ‘I’m sure the starters won’t be long,’ Dan says, misinterpreting the glance at the watch.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘I’m not in a rush.’

  But beneath the table, my feet find my handbag and keep it close, in case I have to make a run for it.

  In fact, maybe I should just –

  Oh, but here are the starters. Trapped.

  I can see Dan weighing up his bruschetta (fork or fingers?) as I fight my way into some tiger prawns (shell on).

  ‘I think you owe me another of your secrets, Dan,’ I say.

  I’m more able to concentrate on the door if he’s talking.

  He holds up his hands, leans back. ‘I’m fresh out of secrets. You’ve stolen the show.’

  ‘OK, tell me about an ex, then,’ I say, my mind on Mick.

  ‘You’re sure?’ he asks.

  I shrug.

  ‘Why not? I like a bit of gossip.’

  ‘OK, so – palatable ex stories. How about my first love?’

  ‘Boring!’

  ‘What if it was also my last love?’

  ‘Boring? No, that’s rude – sorry.’ It’s also pretty much the same for me. Unless you count Chloe. Then there are two loves. And Josh. Of course. Josh. ‘Carry on,’ I say.

  ‘She was beautiful. She broke my heart.’

  Now it’s my turn to play the comforter.

  ‘That sounds like it’s still raw,’ I say, holding his gaze.

  He focuses on the bruschetta. ‘Yeah.’ He wrinkles his nose.

  ‘How long’s it been since …?’ I ask.

  ‘A few years ago.’

  ‘A few years? That’s –’

  ‘A while, yeah, I know. It sort of made an impact, I guess. The way she left me. The run-up to it. She was doing stuff she shouldn’t have been. I asked her not to, she screamed back at me – then, without warning, she was gone. I stayed close with her family; we helped each other move on. We all thought we’d be in-laws one day.’

  ‘Sounds messed-up.’

  He gives a little laugh. ‘Yeah, messed-up. That’s about right. Maybe I should let it go. Maybe she was just a messed-up little bitch.’ I flinch. He catches himself. ‘Sorry. Sorry, Jen. I didn’t mean that. Not a first-date word.’

  ‘Save it for the next one, then.’

  He looks at me. ‘There’ll be another date, then?’

  As long as Mick doesn’t crash this one, I think. ‘Sure, why not,’ I say. People are bitter about their exes. I get that.

  ‘In that case, I’ll refill your glass!’

  We each take a sip of our drink. It’s a longer sip than necessary. I expect we’re both working out how to get the conversation a bit more datey. I’m also trying to work out alternate exits. 7.40. Maybe Mick isn’t coming. Maybe his namesake is already at his table. It’s not possible for him to be here. So maybe I should just go for the obvious explanation – same first initial to a common surname. Coincidence. Leave it at that.

  ‘So I bet you think I sold sex,’ I say to Dan.

  He spits out his drink.

  I give him a napkin and a grin.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Maybe I didn’t phrase that quite right …’

  ‘I think you phrased it perfectly. Sex is always a good end to a sentence but – what?’

  I laugh. This feels easier. Mick isn’t coming. I can relax.

  ‘When I changed the subject after you asked how I made good. I bet you think it was by selling sex.’

  ‘Well, all I can say is that if it funded a rise into a legal career, you’re obviously very good at it.’

  ‘If that’s what you want to believe, let’s stick with that.’

  I’ve not had sex with a guy for ten years. I had a lot of it back then. But not all of it was consensual.

  ‘OK, so I’m taking it you weren’t actually selling sex. What was it then? You ran away with the circus? Peddled a few E’s in your local club?’

  That’s too close to the mark. Fight through. Fight through. Don’t let your expression crack.

  ‘What, you saying I look like a circus elephant, are you?’

  Good save, if I say so myself.

  ‘Oh ha, I can’t think of anyone less like an elephant.’

  ‘Why thank you. And thank you for making me work that hard for a compliment.’

  ‘I said you looked lovely right at the start of the date!’ Dan protests.

  ‘And, what, so now I look hideous?’ I joke.

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Jen Sutton. You look gorgeous, and you know it!’

  I smile. Do I know it? I think back to all the mirrors I’ve stared into, looking for myself. I’ve just seen what I’m not, not what I am.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say sincerely.

  ‘My pleasure.’ The waitress collects our starter dishes, and our mains follow swiftly after. There are the usual ‘Oh doesn’t this look nice’ exchanges, then we get back to our main conversation.

  ‘So if you weren’t a hooker, a drug peddler or a circus elephant, what was it?’ Dan asks me. ‘How did you get back on track?’

  ‘Would it amaze you so much if I just said I knuckled down and got on with my schoolwork, like my mum always told me to?’ Because, to be fair to her, she did at least do that.

  ‘No, but you’d be statistically against the odds.’

  ‘I’ll have you know I got half-decent GCSEs. Considering.’

  What I mean by ‘considering’ is that once the other kids found out I wanted to learn, I was labelled a swot and a geek, and my schoolbooks often vanished, to return covered in shit. Yes, more shit. You could tell they were doing something right, those children’s homes – the fruity fibrous diet meant there was plenty of it to go round.

  ‘Sure. Considering,’ says Dan, like the word covers all the shit. ‘But there’s more. I know there’s more.’

  ‘Fine. There’s more. I met a boy. He picked me up from the gutter, there was some unpleasantness, I moved on.’

  Damn the Prosecco. I shouldn’t even have said that much. Should I? I don’t know. I need to go to the bathroom. Splash some water on my face.

  ‘And on that note,’ I tell Dan, ‘you’ll have to excuse me.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ he asks. Knife and fork downed on the plate, glass free
zing halfway to his mouth.

  ‘I’m just going to the bathroom,’ I say. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

  ‘But your food …’ he protests.

  I’m already on my feet.

  The toilets are past the reception desk. On a whim, I ask: ‘Did M. Hardy show in the end?’

  The hostess rolls his eyes. ‘No. But he phoned me. He wanted us to know he was very close by; he just couldn’t get here in time. Something about having to go and pick up his son.’

  And then suddenly I don’t need to splash water on my face any more. Because I am chilled to my core.

  Chapter 17

  I run towards the restaurant door. I hear Dan call out behind me. ‘Jen! Where are you going?’

  ‘I’ve got to go!’ I shout back to him. ‘Pay the bill. I’ll settle up, whatever – I have to leave. Family emergency.’

  ‘Wait, I’ll come with you!’ he calls.

  But I’m not waiting for anyone. Mick. Mick with Josh. Mick, fuelled with thoughts of Chloe. What would he do? What would he do for revenge? And how? He’s not even meant to be here.

  Then Dan’s hand is on my shoulder, slowing me down. I shrug him off. Keep moving and I’m out of the restaurant. Where’s a cab? There’s got to be a cab.

  There’s a loud whistling sound. I turn. Dan has two fingers in his mouth, one arm outstretched. There’s a taxi doing a U-turn to reach us. Dan opens the taxi door, I give my address, and we’re off.

  Dan turns to face me in the cab.

  ‘Jen, what is it? What’s happened?’

  ‘They said in the restaurant that Mick – but it can’t have been Mick – he was calling to say he was going to get Josh; although he didn’t say that, he said he was late and needed … But how could it be Mick?’

  Dan’s eyes widen. Then he begins shaking his head. ‘I’m not getting it, Jen. I’m sorry. Who is Mick? And why would he be at our restaurant?’ He’s making a show of it, emphasizing Mick’s name. Perhaps he doesn’t like the idea of me mentioning another man by name on our date. And he’s right. I take a deep breath. I shouldn’t even have been using Mick’s name. But how could I invent one now, when there’s so much else to think about?

  ‘You remember I told you there was a boy?’ I ask. ‘Who got me from where I was to where I am now?’

  Dan nods.

  ‘Well, it was Mick.’

  ‘And so, you’re rushing to see Mick? Is there a problem?’ Again, that defensive tone. Just understand, Dan – this is not your normal relationship. Not a beautiful breakup many years ago, that I’m running back to.

  ‘It’s not Mick; it’s Josh. I think Mick is with Josh. Mick shouldn’t be anywhere near Josh ever, ever, ever.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’ Dan asks.

  But I’ve told him too much already. ‘Yes, but I haven’t time to explain. We’ll be there in a minute.’ I begin biting my nails again. ‘He wanted me to know. He wanted me to be frightened – he’ll wait until we get there. I hope.’ I turn my attention to the driver. ‘There’s a shortcut down here. Right, turn right!’

  I scan the streets out of the window. We’re going fast, hopefully fast enough. Why would no one have known Mick was here? Why wasn’t I told? What will he do? If it is him, and it must be, mustn’t it? It’s too freaky not to be. Who leaves a message like that at a restaurant otherwise?

  What will he do?

  Because that’s the big question.

  My mind flashes back. I see Mick and Chloe standing in the kitchen. Mick holding a knife out to Chloe. ‘You’re sure about that?’ he’s asking her. He steps closer, the knife a little higher. ‘You don’t want to reconsider?’ It was stupid, we were all arguing, someone’s bag had been moved, possibly rifled. Mick thought it was Chloe. Chloe denied all knowledge.

  ‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ she tells him. ‘If you use that knife I’m going straight to the police.’

  Mick laughs. ‘They won’t give a shit, my sweet. They won’t give a shit.’

  So Chloe does what only Chloe would have the balls to do. She walks away. But Mick follows her. He follows her and he slashes her arm with the knife. There’s a gathering of people at the kitchen door now. Some are berating Mick. Some are helping Chloe stop the bleeding. None of them did anything while Mick was threatening her though. And no one is taking away the knife.

  ‘Thanks a lot, you fucking bastards,’ Chloe says. I can feel her eyes locking on to mine. Like somehow it’s all my fault.

  But it isn’t. It wasn’t. It was Mick’s. He deserved what he had coming. And I don’t deserve his vengeance. Josh does not deserve his vengeance.

  I blink the bloody memories out of my eyes.

  ‘That’s £5.80, love,’ the driver says.

  We’re here!

  Dan pays the driver while I leap out of the car, throw open the door to the apartment building and run up the stairs. The door to our flat is intact. I unlock it. ‘Josh!’ I shout. ‘Josh, are you there?’

  There’s no answer. The front room is empty. There’s a smell of food, a chopping board out on the kitchen surface. No knife to go with it.

  ‘He’s gone!’ I shout.

  Dan is behind me in the doorway.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asks.

  ‘Josh!’ I shout again.

  ‘Mum!’ comes a muffled response.

  Oh thank God.

  But Mick could be in there with a knife.

  I rush towards the sound.

  The bathroom. Psycho slasher scenes run through my mind.

  I push open the door, expecting the worst.

  I see Josh – alive, unharmed – and I see Louise. I see the bathwater clear, not bloodied. Josh is in the bath. I look behind the shower curtain, behind the door.

  ‘Hi, pet, you’re back early,’ Louise says. ‘Sorry about the mess in the kitchen. I’d have cleaned it up if I knew you’d be back so soon.’

  ‘There’s no one else here?’ I ask.

  ‘Who would be here?’ Josh asks me back.

  I can’t tell them. I can’t tell Josh about his father.

  ‘I thought there was an intruder,’ I say. ‘I had a call.’

  Louise shakes her head. ‘No intruders here,’ she says. ‘We had a very nice supper, the two of us – I cook a mean chicken casserole, if I say so myself – and a fun night in.’

  Dan gives a cough in the doorway. ‘Do you want me to look round the rest of the flat?’ he asks.

  I give him a grateful nod. ‘Yes, please.’

  And then – sod the date outfit – I lean into the bath and give Josh the biggest tightest hug I can. ‘I love you,’ I whisper into his hair. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’

  Josh shrugs himself out of my embrace.

  ‘What’s up, Mum?’ he asks.

  ‘It’s all fine, Josh. It’s fine.’ I turn to Louise. ‘I’ve got it from here. Why don’t you call it a night? I’ll call you and we can catch up.’

  ‘Oh, Louise was going to do Lego with me after the bath,’ Josh protests.

  ‘Another time,’ I tell him. In the grand scheme of things, missing out on some Lego is not major.

  Louise leaves and Dan reappears. ‘All clear,’ he says. ‘There’s no one about.’

  ‘Thank you, Dan,’ I say.

  ‘Do you want me to stick around or –’

  ‘Is that your date?’ Josh asks, peering round the shower curtain.

  Dan gives a little laugh. ‘Yeah, mate. I’m Dan. Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘I don’t usually meet people when I’m in the bath,’ Josh says. ‘It’s a bit awkward.’

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Dan says.

  ‘Dan, you don’t have to …’ I tell him. A glass of wine with a grown-up once I’ve got Josh to bed – a grown-up I can tell my fears to, not have to be brave for – would be nice. Even if we have to have the glass of wine sitting on the floor outside Josh’s room to keep out the monsters.r />
  Dan shakes his head. ‘You want some time with Josh. I’ll call you tomorrow,’ he says.

  I wonder if that call will ever come.

  ‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Thanks for your help.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ he says. Then he goes. It’s just me and Josh again.

  Once out of the bath, nicely towelled and pyjamaed, Josh is ensconced beneath his duvet (Star Wars tonight). His side lamp on, a Lego spaceship at his side, and a dog-eared paperback on his lap, it’s hard to imagine any threat to this cosy night-time scene. All that drama. I wonder if I should be back on the Valium. Has my reason gone? Is it all too much?

  ‘Dan seemed nice,’ Josh says.

  ‘Yeah, he did,’ I tell him.

  ‘You shouldn’t have rushed back,’ he says.

  I shrug. ‘I had no choice,’ I tell him. ‘You’re more important than any date.’

  ‘I know,’ he says, nodding and smiling. I ruffle his hair.

  ‘You want me to let you read now?’ I ask him.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘OK then. But don’t stay up too late. I love you.’

  ‘I love you too, Mum.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  ‘Night.’

  And so I leave him to his book and step out into the corridor again. It’s dark; no one turned the lights on. I walk quickly into the living area, where the lights are on. On the kitchen counter, the food mess has all been cleared up. Thank you, Louise.

  Plus there’s a glass of red wine. Next to it, the open bottle. Scrawled on the label, ‘You look like you needed it! D x.’ Bless him. Maybe he will call me tomorrow. I pick up the wine and have a sip, then wander over towards the sofa. Before I get there, a piece of paper on the doormat catches my eye. Another note from Dan?

  I bend down to pick it up.

  It is a note.

  But not from Dan.

  And it says: Next time, he’ll be gone.

  Chapter 18

  I phone my witness protection officer immediately.

  Yes, witness protection. Did I not mention?

  ‘Hello?’ comes a response. There is music in the background. Is she out partying? The bitch.